BBW: Big Beautiful Witch
by Anguis
Summary: Vince has never claimed to be the brightest light in the chandelier, but once he gets an idea in his mind, he hangs onto it like a hippogriff with a juicy ferret. Unfortunately for both Millicent and him, he’s always had difficulty expressing himself.


**Summary:** Vince has never claimed to be the brightest light in the chandelier, but once he gets an idea in his mind, he hangs onto it like a hippogriff with a nice, juicy ferret. Unfortunately for both Millicent and him, he's always had difficulty expressing himself.  
**Disclaimer:** JK Rowling and those lucky companies upon which she has bestowed the rights, including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers, own Harry Potter and Company and all that entails. No money is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
**Author's Notes:** Another in my fic-archiving endeavour. I wrote this in 2007, and it's set during HBP.

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**BBW (Big Beautiful Witch)**

Like many obsessions, it all began in the Slytherin common room. Because of an unfortunate misunderstanding with Professor Flitwick over an admittedly injudicious joke involving a goblin, a giantess, and a stepladder, Greg had spent most of the day dusting chains and oiling manacles for Filch. He had even missed supper, leaving Vince to brave the chaos of the meal alone. Upon returning to the common room, he was greeted by the welcome sight of Greg's familiar broad back silhouetted against the fire. In a moment of exuberance at seeing his friend after their long separation, Vince snuck up behind him and latched on with a crushing bear hug. If he had been paying more attention, perhaps he would have noticed that he was clutching something considerably more interesting than Greg's barrel chest, but there was no time for this to register. Greg wheeled around. Only--and this was where it became downright confusing--it wasn't Greg. Instead, Vince found himself nose to forehead with a girl with a wet and angry face. He hadn't thought it was raining, although those details tended to easily escape him, so he shrugged it off without much thought.

"Look, just because I'm fat doesn't mean I'm easy," she snapped. Vince thought that was a rather odd greeting, but before he could begin to ponder this mystery, she punched him in the gut, doubling him over and making him sorely regret those last four helpings of sticky toffee pudding.

As he stumbled to a chair, trying desperately to contain the nauseous undulations in his stomach, Draco stalked past and gave him a shove and some advice. "If you're going to paw the fat tart, don't do it in front of me. I'd rather not be sick."

Before that evening, Vince had been only vaguely aware of a largish, somewhat indistinct presence attached to "Bulstrode, Millicent". He certainly hadn't thought of her as a _girl_, and he most definitely had never entertained carnal thoughts in her direction. Now he noticed little else. It was as though someone had lit a candle in the deep, dark dungeons of his brain, and what had been murky suddenly resolved with a clarity that should have frightened him. As it was, he became too occupied with noticing things to care.

He noticed the tantalizing curves of her bum swaying in front of his nose as they panted their way up the endless staircases to the Astronomy Tower. Back and forth, back and forth--her weight shifted so mesmerizingly that his sight darkened and blurred (although it might have had something to do with the fact that he had forgotten to breathe for nearly an entire flight of stairs). Suddenly, Vince found himself inexplicably anticipating their late night class.

He noticed her plump thigh pressed up to his as they wedged themselves into a double desk constructed for a pair of less substantial students in Charms. He stared, she glared, and Slytherin lost five points for "disruptive behavior".

He noticed the softness that pooled beneath her jaw when she dropped her chin and hunched her shoulders against the cold, autumn rain-tipped wind. He nearly asked her to The Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer or three, but his courage failed, so he boxed the ears of a passing Hufflepuff instead. That, at least, earned him an approving glance from her direction. (It also earned him a stern reproof from Professor McGonagall and five more points from Slytherin. He thought it was well worth it, although Draco--who was becoming quite disgusted by Vince's fixation--did not agree.)

He noticed her quite amazing bosom when it knocked over a Philandering Fuchsia when she reached across the potting bench in Herbology. He ogled so intently, in fact, that the overturned plant fastened its fangs onto his thumb. Luckily, Greg remembered that such plants were particularly sensitive to being bashed repeatedly with heavy objects like clay flowerpots, so Vince escaped with only a few broken fingers. Inexplicably, Professor Sprout gave Greg detention with Filch for his efforts, but Vince knew that he owed his best friend another life debt.

He noticed the dimple at her elbow uncovered by her sleeve when straining for a battered book in the library. He'd never really thought much about elbows before (or books, for that matter), but hers intrigued him.

And, most of all, he noticed her belly--whether nestling into her lap at mealtimes or curving like the bow of a low-slung Viking ship as she ploughed resolutely through a gaggle of second years, it fascinated him. She propped large tomes on it, tucked her hands underneath it on particularly frigid days, and even caressed it luxuriously on a few occasions when she thought no one was looking. He wondered whether it would feel like a featherbed.

Vince noticed so much that he began to do more than just notice. He began to fantasize. All sorts of scenarios drifted through his head. They distracted him terribly, in class, at mealtimes, in detention, on the weekends, in the common room, during Quidditch matches, in the corridors (even when he was doing that-which-shall-not-be-named for Draco), and especially when he was comfortably ensconced in his bed waiting for sleep to soothe his fevered imagination.

Finally, he knew that he had to do something before he went mad.

It was the first spring day a person could step outside without sinking ankle-deep in mud, and the students of Hogwarts were determined not to miss a moment of pale sunshine and face-scouring breezes. Millicent was reclining under a newly leafed tree. The robes that had been form-fitting at the beginning of the school year now strained at the seams, and she had taken advantage of her relative seclusion to loosen a few of its clasps.

With Greg keeping an eye out for anyone who might interrupt--particularly Draco with his increasingly bizarre and unpleasant orders--Vince approached her cautiously. He had intended to woo her with his charm and challenge her to a friendly wrestling match. Instead, he caught his foot on a protruding root and sprawled across her. She awoke from her dozing with the wind knocked out of her and her arms already grappling with the heavy body pressing down on her. After a brief tussle, during which Millicent's loosened clasps opened completely and Vince learned a couple of rather inventive swearwords, she conceded the bout in favour of preventing any further deepening of her dangerously plunging neckline.

While pinning her wrists and snugly straddling the prodigious stomach that was indeed as soft and warm as a featherbed, he suddenly realised that his careful plan had never extended beyond this point. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was and how much he adored her, but the words clotted in his throat, so he pressed his lips to hers. It was an inexpert kiss at its most charitable description. Nevertheless, when their lips met, Vince saw fireworks exploding and heard wedding bells pealing. Later, Greg would tell him that it was because Millicent had wrested a hand free and clobbered him over the head with a fallen branch, but Vince knew that it was true love.


End file.
